


Lonely Company

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5781421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd die without them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Company

She calls Crow a friend. He sews up Agatha’s clothes while she plays the violin, and sometimes (special times) he might even sing. Something from his life before the brahmin- the reason he talks about spirits, barely believing it himself. He forgets the words half the time, but Agatha doesn’t understand them, anyway.

Wolfgang makes her smile. He’s crazy as they come, but she loves listening to him talk. He gets so excited about his self-proclaimed garbage: it makes Agatha feel young again. Every time he swings by, he makes an offer on that garden gnome, and the one time she accepted, he sold it straight back to her for a song. He’s also solely responsible for the parts that keep her power, water, and radio running. 

She and Harith didn’t used to get along; he obviously didn’t want to be there (partial to jazz, himself), and all Agatha has in the way of ordnance is a dusty ammunition box and a magnum that hasn’t been handled since her late husband. When Agatha dumped a handful of bullets in his palm, said they didn’t even fit in her gun... Lucky cleaned that old .44 for her, because he believes in balance. Offers to teach her how to shoot, and she keeps turning it down.

Doc Hoff is another matter, because while she can live without thread and junk and bullets (the company, maybe not), Hoff is the one really keeping her alive out here. She’d starve without him. He’s not what one would call an “altruist” either- Harith says he once saw him hold eye contact with a man dying of dehydration while he poured out a bottle of water for the brahmin- but, for Agatha, he always brings pure. Maybe he likes her. Maybe he pities her. Doesn’t matter, long as they keep coming.


End file.
